Night Owls
by girl undone
Summary: Samara finds Commander Rachel Shepard's reluctance to hunt down Morinth unsettling, whilst the Commander struggles with the morality of the mission and reflections on her earth-born past. Luckily, Garrus Vakarian is always there if she needs him.


A/N: It's not necessary to read beforehand, but 'Confession Interruptus' could be considered the prequel to this. It delves into Rachel Shepard's time with the 10th Street Reds and the culmination of her relationship with Garrus. Otherwise, enjoy! As always, thank you for reading and reviewing!

* * *

Commander Rachel Shepard paused outside the Starboard Observatory as she left Samara mediating. _Or creating a mass effect field to hold her boobs up. I hope if I'm ever 900 year old, mine are that perky. _She shook her head, both to ward off the on-coming headache she felt and at the lack of armour her rag-tag crew insisted on wearing. She reached up and gripped the back of her neck, then rolled her head around. _Tension headache. And no wonder. She wants to kill her own daughter._ Shepard groaned. She had to talk to someone sensible. Someone who didn't go into battle with their chest exposed or poorly armoured. Someone who did not expect her to be Commander Shepard every single waking moment of her life.

So, naturally, she found herself in front of the main batteries. She hesitated, as it was after dinner and heading into the night cycle when normal sapient creatures slept. _Still, the door console is green_, she reasoned, _and we already had our inter-species awkwardness incident. A few times now. He's probably calibrating anyway. _She opened the doors before she could embarrass herself out of it. "Hey, Garrus, have you got- oh! You're busy. I'm sorry, I'll-"

Garrus Vakarian jumped up from the edge of his cot, hastily clearing the datapad he was reading. "Shep- Rachel! No, I was just, uh, reading something." He tossed the pad down on his cot, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Not important. Need me for something?"

She grinned at him, walking inside and trying to peer over his shoulder. He locked his hands behind his back to keep from steering her away lest the datapad hadn't wiped itself. "Reading 'Fornax'?"

His mandibles twitched, but she couldn't tell if it was embarrassment or amusement. "You have a filthy mind," _Spirits, that was close_. "No, just some schematics." _For turian and human sex from Dr. Solus_, he mentally added, deciding it wasn't a lie. They looked far more like schematics than anything else.

Her grin faded as she tilted her head curiously up at him. "Really? Anything useful?"

"Oh yeah, definitely," Garrus replied enthusiastically, before he realised Shepard would either pick up on his tone or ask what was so useful. He cleared his gullet. "But, uh, if you don't mind me saying, you look upset."

She looked down, letting her shoulders slump with a sigh. "I guess I am." She rubbed her neck again. He could see it wasn't her tell of embarrassment. She seemed to be massaging it instead, like she often did when she had a headache.

His head tilted in concern and he broke from his formal position to rest a hand on her shoulder. She gave him a brief, half-hearted smile that he returned in his own way. For once, he remembered not to say Shepard. "Rachel, like I said, I'm here if you need me."

She patted his arm and dropped, without invitation, onto his cot in a graceful sprawl. "You know, you're the only sensible member of the team. I mean, despite the two years of being a kick-ass vigilante with an awesome alias and the whole revenge saga-"

Garrus interrupted with a grunt, crossing his arms and leaning against the console he normally used to calibrate the Thanix cannons. "Didn't we already discuss this several times now?" His hawk-like gaze levelled on her.

Rachel held up her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. I was just trying to say, at least you wear armour. Even if it's a bit ruined."

He didn't relent, however. "This isn't about armour. What's wrong?"

She sighed, rubbing her neck again. "Fucking headache," she muttered under her breath. Garrus waited, arms still crossed. She sighed. "I can't go to Omega."

He uncrossed his arms and sat down next to her. Stripping off his gloves, he rumbled, "Come here." He saw that look in her eyes and immediately cut it off before the 'schematics' could pop back into his brain. "Your headache, remember?"

The glint in her eye didn't fade. "Am I being treated to a special turian massage?" she asked, her voice low.

"Filthy mind," he repeated, nudging her shoulders. She laughed, but obliged, turning her back to him. Before she could speak, he placed his warm hands on the back of her neck. "I know humans prefer cold for headaches, but you carry all your tension in your neck. Since my hands are warmer than-"

She cut him off with a groaned exclamation, "Omigod, Garrus, where have you been all my life?"

He had a lot of answers to that question. Instead, mindful of his talons, he carefully rubbed her neck. "Waiting for you to tell me why you can't go to Omega. Not that I'm thrilled with the idea of you going there in the first place."

Rachel groaned again, this time not pleasurably. "If anyone shouldn't be going, it's _you_. But, oh- that really does feel good..." She leaned back into his touch. "Ugh, I just can't let her kill her daughter, Garrus. It's unconscionable."

Shepard's conscious was one of the things he admired- no, loved, about her, and also grudged. Loved, because she took the time to help those in need. Did her best to show everyone that avoiding red tape didn't mean murder had to be involved in the equation. But too often it went past helping innocents to putting herself in detrimental situations. He remembered his angry words at the Citadel after she talked him down from shooting Sidonis, telling her she had a death wish. She never answered him and he feared she was at a point where he had been on Omega, right before she found him as 'Archangel', ready and waiting for death to come. Or, in her case, to make a reappearance. His fingers kneaded her neck and shoulders all the while before he finally spoke. "She's a murderer. She's killed hundreds of innocents."

She tensed up again under his hands and turned around to face him. She was more upset than angry. "I know that! But she has a genetic defect. One the asari can't or won't cure. Fuck, I don't know! How can I kill someone who's given a choice of kill or be killed? And don't tell me that convent crap is supposed to fly as a choice! A millennium in a convent or making a run for it and risking death? I wonder at the other two who chose that life!"

Garrus, more than anything, wanted to take her into his arms and tell her everything would be fine. It was a far-off fantasy in their life. Instead, he held her shoulders firmly despite the fact she had nearly flung his hands off when she whipped around. "Rachel," he said her name to get her attention. It worked because her distressed grey-green eyes met his avian ones. "This isn't about you."

Those human eyes widened as she realised he really did understand her. He really did see beneath her rank and legend as others, except perhaps Joker, did not. With a deep sigh, she leaned her head against his chest. Garrus hesitated, still confused at what, if anything, this odd display of human affection meant, but knowing she did it just for him, and seeing how much she seemed to desire it made him start to enjoy it himself. Especially because he could 'play with her hair' as she called it. "I was like Morinth, though. Did I deserve to die for it?"

He tightened his arms around her and growled fiercely, "No! You were nothing like an Ardat-Yakshi! You didn't take pleasure in what you did. You didn't like it. You were _forced_ to survive like that." He didn't care if EDI was silently listening or the fact that he might have missed a bug or surveillance feed. He buried his face into top of her head and added with rumbling force, "_Never_ think you deserved to die. _Never._"

She was quiet for so long that he began to worry he frightened her, or upset her more deeply. But she finally lifted her head from his chest and touched his scarred mandible. "I know it's selfish of me to ask, especially with your past on Omega, but I'd like it if you'd come with me."

Garrus' hand covered hers, silently telling her the injury wasn't her fault; that she could have done nothing to prevent it, but Rachel would never seem to believe it. "I said I'd follow you into hell. Omega is just another name for it."

Rachel Shepard cracked a smile, leaning against his chest again. "You're such an ass."

His mandibles flexed in a grin as he settled his arms around her. "I'm beginning to think that's a compliment from you."

* * *

Samara had sensed it would not be wise to inform Commander Shepard that her quarry was her own daughter, but her own code prevented her from lying. Her ancient, glacial blue eyes saw the human's careful mask crack for a split-second. In that instant, she saw disgust, anger, and something else the asari spent many hours meditating on: commiseration. Samara supposed she could see, from a human point of view, with no intimate knowledge of Morinth or Ardat-Yakshi in general, how terrible it must seem for a mother to kill her own daughter. She could easily deduce where the anger and disgust came from. Yet the empathy, especially when Shepard asked why Morinth had to be killed, was unnerving. It was not directed toward Samara and her horrible duty as a justicar. It was directed at Morinth.

Cross-legged and blanketed by biotics, Samara contemplated all she knew of this strange creature, Commander Shepard. For a human praised so widely for her terrible skill with weaponry, she seemed to prefer to find less deadly means to defuse situations. The Commander was widely blamed for killing the non-human council to raise humanity, but it seemed quite apparent, especially from all reports given about that day, Shepard had no idea that when she gave the order to 'concentrate on Sovereign' she was condemning the Council and all those aboard the _Destiny Ascension_ to death. She had been trying to save the most lives as possible, Shepard herself had said that of the incident. In truth, it seemed Shepard was always trying to save the most lives as possible. Samara knew, from age and experience, that quite often many lives needed to be sacrificed for the greater good. But the Commander was painfully young and idealistic despite all she had seen in her significant trials. Despite all the death the Commander had seen and, indeed, personally experienced, she still seemed to believe death could be avoided.

Did Shepard then intend to go back on her word and not help her contain Morinth? Did the Commander think there was some way for Morinth to live, free, without killing? Did the human consider breaking her promise and let Morinth slip away? Samara stared out into the stars with unseeing eyes as she pondered Shepard's reluctance to aid her coupled with the young human's unnerving desire to save Morinth.

* * *

Commander Rachel Shepard could not believe, after all these years, and one death under her belt, she was back to where she started under Finch's command in the 10th Street Reds. As the honey-trap. In her colonist civilian garb, she ordered a round for the bar and asked the bartender for her own bottle. If she was going to have to lure Morinth out, she knew a few tricks that would at least get most of Afterlife's male V.I.P customers hot and bothered.

Meanwhile, Garrus Vakarian and Samara held position outside the club. Garrus' visor kept him zoned in on Shepard's movements. Right now, he was struggling to maintain composure as she wrapped her mouth around the bottle she had just ordered and tilted her head back so her throat was exposed with each swallow she took. _Spirits, that should be _illegal_! She warned me she was going to be bait_, he thought to himself, _but how I was supposed to know that meant she would look like she was_-

Samara interrupted his train of thought, thankfully. His armour was getting rather uncomfortable. "She seems far more skilled at this than I would have thought."

Garrus started, but didn't turn, acknowledging Samara only with his voice. His eyes never left Shepard. "She was trained as an N7 commando in the Systems Alliance and made the first human Spectre. You don't get to those places without skill." He noticed the level of alcohol in Shepard's bottle never changed. She had told him it was easier to look like you were rapidly getting drunk by falsely swallowing out of a bottle rather than looking for ways to discreetly dump the contents of one's glass. He thought, half-sourly, _she could have told me just what else she was going to do to that damned bottle._

He wanted to _be_ that bottle. _Mission, Vakarian! Focus!_

This, of course, was not what Samara meant. She also sensed Garrus knew this when he gave his rote reply. "You love her," the justicar said. It was not a question, but an observation.

Garrus turned swiftly to Samara, denial hot on his tongue when a voice that was not Commander Shepard, not even Rachel Shepard as he knew her rang out vampishly, "Hey boys, anyone have an extra cherry?"

Much to the mutual confusion and surprise of the turian and asari, several human males rushed up to offer Shepard the fruit-garnished drinks of their poor, abandoned dates. Intrigued, they watched as she debated over which one cherry to choose before slipping her fingers into a dark-haired male's drink and plucking the red globe out by the stem. She favoured the supposed lucky devil with a wanton smirk, licking her fingers before she bit the candy-red piece of fruit off the stem. Now even the alien men were watching as she swallowed the fruit, then placed the stem on her now cherry-red tongue and winked at the small crowd she amassed. A strange, sort of twisting smile played on her mouth and then she stuck out her tongue again. The human males, then, soon after the various aliens, once they understood the implication, erupted in a cheer to see the stem tied into a knot on her food-colouring dyed tongue.

Garrus stared, speechless. There was _nothing_ remotely close to that in Mordin's 'schematics'. He both cursed and thanked his armour at the same time.

Samara realised it all now, just as Morinth beckoned the Commander from the recesses of the club. Shepard's skill at convincing mercenaries to lay down their weapons; her ability to make peace with the most battle-worn krogan; the way twelve individual souls, indifferent to the rest of galaxy, would follow her to their death to save it.

Shepard was the predator disguised as bait.

* * *

The Commander, the Officer, and the Justicar were all silent as they left the din and grime of Omega to board the _Normandy._ Shepard had hesitated as both Samara and Morinth called on her for help. Samara understood now how the Commander had not fallen under Morinth's sway. Shepard had all but evenly held Morinth in her own. The thought that Shepard had the same raw, primal skill to bend wills as Morinth had possessed chilled Samara to the bone. It was easier to focus on her wariness of the Commander than realise her most beloved daughter was dead by her hand.

Behind her, Shepard trudged wearily next to Garrus, exhausted by her act all evening and the fate of one's life once against placed in her hands. She reached up to rub the back of her neck, feeling the tight cording muscle pulse. She closed her eyes for a moment, silently asking forgiveness. She was so sick and tired of being put in these situations. She wasn't a deity. It wasn't supposed to be her choice of who lived and who died. She felt a surge of hatred toward Samara for putting her in such a position. She couldn't wait to get back on the _Normandy_ and-

"Are you all right?" Garrus' question interrupted her thoughts. She knew he tried to make his voice low, but he was a turian and she couldn't possibly imagine him without that flanged rumbling. He simply wouldn't be Garrus. Her mouth twitched up in a smile, he realised, in a supreme effort from her especially for him. If his chest puffed out in pride, who could blame him? She nodded in Samara's direction, then shook her head. He realised she didn't want to be overhead. Suddenly, she exclaimed, "Damn, the buckle fell off again!"

Garrus halted, looking her up and down, all buckles in place. He was about to say something when she put a finger her mouth, then quickly waved at Samara, who turned around the survey Shepard. "Go on ahead, Samara. We'll be right there. Garrus, do you see it?"

Samara replied coolly, "As you say," and, relieved to be away from the unsettling Commander, took herself the rest of the way to the _Normandy_, leaving Shepard and Garrus on their own.

Garrus' mandibles moved in amusement. "It's right there, Shepard," he said, waiting until Samara was out of earshot. "Where it always was. On your outfit."

Shepard held up her palms as though to say 'you caught me out', then led Garrus near an obscured, empty space between Omega's transit line and its vista. Captain Gavorn acknowledged them when they walked past, but didn't seem interested in watching them once the gloom and shadows enveloped them. "What was I supposed to do? You won't lie and I couldn't answer you around her." She raked a hand through her hair. "She hates me now. Because I didn't want to kill her daughter. Because I was too good at being the bait. You know," she dropped her voice, looking around before she spoke again, "I often think I like other races more than I like humans, but the asari..." She shook her head. "I guess that makes me racist. Ugh. I feel dirty."

Garrus looked around too before he slipped an arm around her waist. He still couldn't get over how small it was - for a human, anyway. "Everyone feels like that after being on Omega. And you don't hate asari. You just don't like being judged."

She leaned her head against his armoured shoulder with a half-laugh, half-sigh. "She _is_ a justicar. I guess judging comes along with the territory."

He nuzzled her hair for a brief moment, then looked back to see if anyone noticed them. He didn't particularly care about someone catching him with the Commander at that moment. It was someone sticking a shiv in her back that he was more concerned with. "Well, she was right about one thing, though."

She drew back from his shoulder to look up at him in surprise. "Was she?" Her tone was immediately defensive, if not injured as well.

But Garrus flexed his mandibles, teasing her as always, "You were too good at being bait. You could have warned me."

Rachel's scowl turned to a coy smile. "I _did_. But I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

Garrus Vakarian rumbled in her ear, "Do I get to ask for my own private encore?"

Rachel Shepard turned to meet his gaze, her mouth curved upward, and replied archly, "You can even be a stand-in for the bottle and the cherry."

* * *

Geeky mythology and folklore PhD candidate's A/N: The Ardat-Yakshi are partially based on the Ardat-Lili, the daughters of Lilith in Middle Eastern mythology. More commonly known as succubi, they feed off the souls of their victims during mating. Owls were commonly associated with Lilith, whose name means 'of the night'. Hence the double-meaning title of this piece.


End file.
